Sable Rider
by Maeve Sidhe-Elf
Summary: Sable Eltsire's a Green Rider and one of King Zachary’s closest friends. When a strange girl sweeps into their lives bearing a message that warns of great danger, Sable is forced to deal w her past & the threat of something evil coming. T4 Fun. OC
1. Sable and a Midnight Summons

**Sable Rider**

_Sunlight shone through wide open stable doors in bright rectangles of gold. The warm smells of hay, horses and leather mingled together in the half light. The occupants of the spacious stalls stamped and nickered softly at her approach. They knew she would bring hay and oats. It was late enough in the day that she and the other stable hands had begun to get the horses ready for the night, but the summer sun was not near setting. The messenger horses greeted her pleasantly as she entered each stall with a pitchfork laden with hay. _

_She was a very pretty girl of about ten; her waist-length, straight, raven hair was platted into a loose but practical braid down her back. Her catlike eyes were a deep emerald green in her marble-white face. She was tall for her age, and unlike other girls, she was in perfect proportions; there was nothing awkward or gangly about her. She wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her green breeches fit her long legs well and her highly polished, black boot seemed to repel the dust. Just as she was finishing up with the last horse, a big bay named Clover, the bell she had been waiting for all day finally rang. She squealed in childish excitement, closed the stall door responsibly, and dashed to the courtyard as fast as her long legs would carry her slight frame. _

_At the edge of the yard, she peered down to the city street below. Sure enough, a travel worn Green Rider astride a lathered horse galloped toward her. She squinted at the Rider, shielding her large eyes with a delicate hand. Three Riders had come out of the stable and Barracks to see their returning comrade and gauge how important the message was. They squinted and scratched their heads. One Rider, Evony, speculated in her melodic voice,_

_"Is it Ringwall? I can't make out anything yet…" She strained to see better, frowning slightly. Evony blew a stray hair out of her eyes. She and the two men in green peered down at the long road, after another moment they gave up trying to see. Evony turned to see the little Green Foot staring intently at the figure they could not identify. The young Rider smiled sweetly at the wide-eyed girl. All the Riders knew what the strange girl could do. "Hey, Sable…Can you see who that is?" Sable smiled brightly and turned back to the road. _

_The horse was gawky, but very sturdy, bred for speed and endurance more than good looks – like many messenger horses. As the Rider drew near, she made out a slim figure and long, inky-black hair. She gave a high-pitched squeal of delight and clapped her hands. She laughed brightly,_

_"It's Mama!" And with that, she sprinted off to the castle gate. Evony grinned at her companions._

_"So, Elorey is back! It'll be nice too have her around again." The men nodded. The taller of the two Riders shook his head._

_"That's an odd girl Elorey's got. Sweet, but odd." The other two made noises of assent. Evony ran her fingers threw her hair and commented,_

_"We had better get another horse ready incase she needs to go out again… I do hope King Amigast doesn't send her out again." She sighed and she and her companions walked briskly into the stable. _

_By the time this short exchange had finished, Sable was standing under the portcullis. The stiff wind whipped her inky hair out of her eager face as her mother cantered towards her. In her high, musical voice she cried,_

_"Mama!" The wind brought a happy, if tiered, laugh back to her ears. After a breathless moment of waiting, Elorey Talltree cantered through the castle gate, past the silver and black uniformed guards and her daughter. Sable dashed after the horse, remarkably, she stayed level with the gelding's flanks. Elorey smiled over here shoulder at her bounding daughter. Someone outside of the Green Riders would have thought Elorey callous for not stopping to greet her child, but she was one of the king's Messengers, her message was a priority. Elorey loved her daughter devoutly; Sable knew that and understood her mother's service to the king was essential._

_At the stable, Rider Talltree dismounted, hugged her daughter and marched towards the castle. Sable took hold of Inferno's reins and walked him in a wide circle to cool him down. By the fact that her mother had not galloped up to the castle doors, Sable knew that her mother did not carry an urgent missive, and would more than likely not be sent out again for at lest two weeks. The idea made a happy bubble well up inside her. Her large eyes glittered with suppressed excitement, but, like her mother, Sable had a job to do. The stable and its inhabitance were her responsibility._

_Two days later…_

_Elorey and Sable lounged in the pasture, the high grass shielding them from the Rider Barracks. A few horses grazed nearby, their tails flicked back and forth nonchalantly in the warm sun. Elorey sat behind her daughter, braining a bottle-green ribbon into her long tresses. At first glance, they two were identical, though closer inspection proved otherwise. They had the same, almond-shaped green eyes, straight, onyx hair and pale, pretty faces. But beyond that, they had little in common. Sable was finer boned, her cheekbones and forehead higher and, of course, Sable had delicately pointed ears. Elorey worshiped her daughter, but made certain she was not spoiled. They were the epitome of calm and comfort. Their jet-black hair reflected the sunshine in waves of gold._

_"There my sweetling, don't you look like a princess?" Said Elorey as she finished platting. Sable giggled, finding the idea funny._

_"I'm a Green Foot, Mama! I can't be a princess!" Her mother smiled conspiratorial._

_"Oh? What about your little friend, Prince Zachary? Lieutenant Mapstone says he demanded to have you attended his privet classes. It sounds like he likes you…Maybe you'll be a princess after all." Sable was still young enough to find boys icky and made her opinion known by emitting a loud,_

_"Ewww!" After a moment of thought, Sable added, "Besides, Zachary won't be king, Prince Amilton will be. Zachary'll be Lord-Govenor of Hillander Province." Elorey laughed and kissed her child. Sable leaned back into her mother's lap and smiled up at her. _

_"My, but you're a pretty girl, my lovely." Sable's eyes widened. She had never thought of herself as a beauty. "You'll be much prettier than I'll ever be." Now Sable was shocked. In her mind, Elorey was the most beautiful woman alive._

_"How do you know?" _

_"Because I saw your father, lass! And a more handsome man, I never saw." Sable loved when her mother spoke her about her father._

_"Tell me about him. Please. How did you meet?" She knew the story, but it never grew old. Elorey had been badgered into tell it very night for the first six of Sable's life. _

_"Well, I was delivering a message up north, near the Green Cloak. I bedded down for the night, in the woods off the road. I went to sleep…Then, in the middle of the night, I heard something - music. But it was inside me, not around me, like it should be. It was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. I got up and followed it. Suddenly, there was a bright, silvery light coming from a clearing ahead of me…There were people in the clearing. Eletains…They were so lovely." This part was Sable's favorite. She could feel the thrill building inside herself. "Before I could get more than five yards from the clearing, someone stopped me. He was perfect – flaxen hair, fine features, and hair like pale gold. He was wonderful…So kind." And that was all Elorey would ever say. Sable knew instinctively that there was more to the story; however, her mother never shared. She got the distinct impression that Lieutenant Mapstone was in on the story, but the chances of Laren telling her anything that Rider Talltree didn't want her to hear were about as great as Sable's chances of becoming a princess. _

_"Mama, why won't you tell me more?" Elorey shook her head. _

_"Not yet, when you're settled with a good profession and you have some roots, I'll give you my diary and you can read the story. I don't want you running off after your father and missing out on a real life." Sable knew better than to whine or beg; her mother did not tolerate that sort of thing. She would just have to be patient. She sighed. _

That was the last clear memory Sable had of her mother… On her very next ride, Elorey Talltree died. It was never clear if it was a terrible accident or foul play. It still haunted Sable's mind.

With a short gasp, Rider Sable Eltsire awoke. That memory was over fifteen-years-old… And it was still painful. Sable lay in the dark of her tiny room in Rider Barracks trying to block out what she did not wish to remember. It hurt so…

Then the sound of someone knocking softly on her door brought her back to the present. She knew what it was about. There was only one reason there would be a stealthy tap on her door in the middle of the night. Grateful for the distraction, she got up, pulled on her green breeches and a white linen shirt and fastened her winged horse brooch to the lapel of her jacket before sliding it on. As another tap sounded she hurriedly yanked on her boots. Then she opened the door. A stony-faced Weapon, one of the elitist and most skilled warriors, stood before her, clad all in black.

"Hello, Rory…The king wants to speak with me?" He nodded without his expression changing in the slightest. Soundlessly, he turned and marched down the hall. Sable glided after the Weapon. She was no stranger to these nighttime calls to duty. Rider Eltsire was deeply devoted to here king. Though she had no idea why she was being summoned, she was certain that it was going to be a long night.


	2. In the King's Chambers

Sable followed Rory across the courtyard and into the castle itself. It was a large and imposing structure, built atop a massive hill by the finest stonemasons of Clan D'yer. Sable hated being inside all that cold stone; it was always hard for her to breath. The very walls seemed to press in on her. As they moved stealthily through the castle, Sable focused on why her king would summon her inside of the oppressiveness that haunted her.

After what felt like a year, Rory stopped before a large oak door, behind which Sable knew lay the king's chambers. The Weapon inclined his head before opening the door for her. In barely more than a whisper, he informed her,

"His Excellency will be with you shortly. He has instructed me to tell you to make yourself comfortable in his study." Sable nodded politely, thanked him and entered the king's chambers. Her lips were pressed tightly into a courteous smile that hid her mirth. She found it difficult not to laugh at on duty Weapons with their ever-stony faces and airs of solemnity. She respected their devotion to king and country, but the knowledge that she had not so long ago be among their number made their unending seriousness amusing to her. As Rory closed the door behind her, Sable felt her mind returning to her days as a pledge in the Black Shield Academy.

_She was seventeen, tall and slender. Her long hair was tied back sternly, but still concealed her pointed ears. She wore black breeches, black boots and a white shirt – the pledge's uniform. (Swordsmaster initiates wore the same outfit, only their sleeves were black and full Weapons dressed in sold black.) Sable was in the faze of her training in which she was forbidden to speak unless one of her instructors or the royal family spoke to her. It was a test of her ability to follow orders without question and to remain silent for hours at a time. She had been assigned the rather dull post in the gardens and was less then pleased that she was going to have to stand perfectly still in the shadow of a wall for ten hours while brightly dressed courtiers sauntered about enjoying the cool weather. The first four had past with nothing more interesting than a couple of regular militia hassling her. It was common practice to try to break the pledges even if you were not a Black Shield yourself. _

_Just when she was beginning to think she would die of boredom, Prince Zachary Hillander wandered into the gardens, accompanied as always by a discreet Weapon and his favorite terrier, Snowball. He grinned at her and came to lean beside her on the wall she was not allowed to touch. _

"_Pledging, are we?" He asked his childhood friend casually. Sable nodded slightly, her face blank. "How many hours do you have left on duty?" _

"_Five and a half, my prince." He snorted at the unusual formality she was forced to use with him while on duty. _

"_I cannot understand why this appeals to you, Sable." She did not answer. He sighed. "As your prince, I command you to walk with me." She glanced at the Weapon behind Zachary. He followed her gaze. "Narn, you can give us a little space." The man nodded and took six steps back. Turning to Sable, he jerked his head to indicate they should walk. She bowed respectfully to Zachary before following him down the gravel path. He leaned towards her nonchalantly and whispered, "Does Narn bite the pledges?"_

"_He takes pleasure in crushing our spirits…Pledge season is his favorite time of year." He grimaced._

"_Why on earth do you want to put yourself through this? I could get you into the Light Horse unit or anywhere else! Sable, is the Black Shield really for you? You hate being in the castle – what if you are posted in the Tombs?" She frowned. Her old friend knew her too well. _

"_My prince, I would not wish to throw my lot in with the Light Horse, they are a bunch of spoiled, under-trained nobles." She grimaced. "I can think of no place I would rather be except…"She halted. Zachary smiled at her._

"_Except the Green Riders," He finished for her. "If I could sponsor you into the messenger service, I would." Sable flashed an appreciative smile at her favorite prince. _

"_My thanks, prince," Narn coughed as if to say he disapproved of their closeness. Sable blanched, in an undertone she lamented, "Gods, he's sure to post me in Hero's Avenue after this! I won't see the sun for days!" She groaned._

"_I would hug you, but it would only make your situation worse." Sable and Zachary had been friends since they were children. Then-Rider Laren Mapstone took care of both of them, Zachary had a father who never noticed him and Sable had a mother who was often on the road. Laren kept them in line when no one else seemed to know either little urchin existed. Their loneliness was their bond._

"_I appreciate your thoughtfulness." They laughed quietly. The two continued down the paths for a little less then half and hour before their fun was killed. Sable looked up to see Prince Amilton sashaying towards them. As always, the heir apparent was dressed in fine silks of deep purple, gold and lapis. He was the same age as Sable and two years older than Zachary, yet Amilton had the air of a spoiled boy, where as the other two exuded maturity. Amilton was over dressed and attention seeking. Sable frowned – Amilton hated her as much as she loathed him. Her heart sank as she saw the vindictive gleam in his almond-shaped brown eyes. Those eyes were the only thing about him that resembled his brother or father. He smiled wickedly at her before addressing Zachary. _

"_Brother, how good it is to see you with a woman of your caliber. Perhaps this pretty Pledge shall finally make a man of you." He smirked condescendingly at her, she gnashed her teeth – the innuendo was not lost on her. Zachary bristled._

"_Leave her alone, Amilton." The younger prince growled. The terrier at his heels barked and snapped at Amilton's hem. Amilton screwed up his angular features and kicked Snowball, hard. Sable scooped the old dog up in her arms as Zachary put himself between his brother and his friend. Snowball yelped as Sable stroked her thick, white fur. In a dangerously calm voice, Zachary said, "Amilton, father has told you to stop harming the dogs." At first, Amilton's face burned scarlet, and then he smiled evilly. He shrugged as if it mattered not that his little brother had defied him. _

"_Pledge…Come here. And put that dirty animal down." Sable felt sick, she knew Amilton well enough to guess what he had in mind. Before she had joined the Black Shield, she would have told him what to do with himself, but she was a Pledge and there was a Weapon present – she had no choice but to obey him. Sable gingerly gave the old dog to her owner, who was looking apprehensive. Once the poor creature was in safe keeping, she took a beep breath and stepped around Zachary. _

_Her face was cool and blank as any Weapon as she regarded the cruel prince. Amilton smiled charmingly. Sable sensed Zachary tensing behind her – they both knew she was in trouble. Amilton's brown eyes glittered ominously. _

"_Pledge." His tenor voice was innocent, yet fooled no one. Sable stood before him with her chin lifted and her shoulders back, her green eyes shone with defiance. "Pledge…You did not give me the proper greeting as my subject. Tut, tut. I demand your respect and subservience. Bow." Sable kept an empty façade and bowed at the waist, her glossy hair falling over her shoulder. Amilton laughed. When he spoke, his voice was sickeningly sweet. "You know, Pledge, I just don't believe your sincerity – a Weapon must be completely loyal to her king…It will not be long before __**I**__ am your king. Make me believe you."_

_Sable bowed lower, until she was almost doubled over. Zachary made a sound of outrage. She gritted her teeth and prayed to every god and goddess that her friend would keep his mouth shut – even if Amilton attacked Zachary, King Amigast would side with his oldest son. If Zachary got into a fight with his brother, he would be in serious difficulty with his father, especially if the scuffle was over a common Black Shield Pledge. _

"_I still find your obedience lacking sincerity… Convince me." She swallowed and dropped to one knee. Any Weapons watching were impressed by her self-control; her hands were open at her sides and her body was relaxed, in spite of the tension. Amilton heaved a melodramatic sigh. "I am still unconvinced…Lower." _

_Sable closed her eyes and imagined she was in the pasture behind Rider Barracks. Any place but here. Her left eye twitched as she went down on both knees. With an imperceptible growl, she bent until her face was barely an inch above the gravel of the path. The only things in her range of vision were Amilton's overly polished, brown leather boots. Though outwardly she was the definition of calm, Sable's insides were screaming and writhing in ire. _

"_Sadly, I do not feel won over… Come now, Miss Eltsire. Can you not put a little genuineness into your performance?" A direct question, she could finally say something._

"_Prince, I can add no more sincerity than I have within me…Nor can I go any lower in my bow…My apologies." _

"_Oh, you can go lower… Prostrate yourself before your future king!" Sable wanted to weep, but her pride held her in check. Her jaw tightened as she lay face down with her nose in the gravel. Zachary's temper finally broke._

"_That's enough! Amilton, she has done what you ask! Leave her be!" He snarled. Sable groaned silently as she held her position of capitulation. Amilton laughed. _

"_Little brother, do not get involved. I know you want to protect your pretty paramour," She could her him crouching down beside her. Sable felt his fingers sliding through her hair. "But really, I think she should learn some respect…"His fingers twisted into the thick, glossy main and yanked her head up to look at him. With difficulty, she kept her position, despite her neck's being curved back so far she thought a few vertebrae must have creaked. Her eyes watered as pain shot down her spine. As she looked into Amilton's eyes, she knew what he would do. She closed her eyes and braced herself._

_He slapped her across the face as hard as he could. Her head snapped around, but she did not cry out. This only infuriated him more – his angular but attractive features were twisted with wrath. His next strike was with a closed fist. Pain raked her body as he beat her, his rage was concentrated on her face, neck and shoulders. Blood splattered out from between her lips as her teeth cut the inside of her mouth. Her lip split and her cheek was lacerated by his big, gold ring. Zachary let out a roar and made to intervene, but Narn wrapped his arms around his waist to restrain the young prince. In a few moments the attack was over. It had been short, but ferocious. When he was satisfied, Amilton flung her away and flounced off. As he stepped on her left hand, he barked at his Weapon._

"_Fetch me a bandage for my hand! And some soap and water. I want to wash her common filth off my hands!" Zachary threw Narn off and made to pounce on his brother. Sable groaned and lounged at his knees. She took him down decisively, but the exertion was too much. The last thing she remembered was Zachary's concerned face and Snowball's pink tongue before her world faded into darkness…_

She chuckled as she moved through the half-dark rooms, she knew these quarters very well. Zachary and Sable had played many a game of hide-and-seek in the unlit and uninhabited parts of the royal quarters. Sable mulled over the days that followed Amilton's attack as she settled herself into an overstuffed armchair by the merry fire…

_When she awoke in the menders' wing a few hours later, her head felt as if it might split open. Sable groaned, putting her hand to her swollen face. Tears slipped down her cheeks. Drawing on her reserves of practicality, Sable mentally took stalk of her condition. She ran her tongue around her mouth and found all her teeth in place, though her inner cheek was cut open. Further analysis reviled a deeply bruised jaw, a fractured collarbone, two black eyes, a split lip and a broken nose. Pain screamed through all nerve endings. _

"_Sable…Why didn't you let me take him?" She cracked open her swollen eyes and turned to see Zachary sitting on a straight-backed chair by her bed. His voice was splintered and his face, distraught. "He hurt you…You're face – you're beautiful face…" He reached out and gently touched the mangled mess that was her face. His eyes brimmed with frustration and rage as he dipped a cloth into a bowl of water and began gingerly to dab her injuries. She managed to smile with difficulty._

"_Amilton can beat me whenever he pleases and I can do nothing about it. You, on the other hand, I can protect from his wrath. I've been at it since I was seven – I'm not about to stop now." He shook his head._

"_When he becomes king, he will use you as a punching-bag every day! Drop out of the Academy. Wait a few years, when I am Lord-Governor of Hillander Province you can come with me and join the regular militia. You wouldn't be a Swordsmaster, but at least you would be away from him!" He said fervently. Sable attempted to smile through her pain. _

"_I don't want to be some militia-rat! I want to be a Swordsmaster! Zachary…I know what I want and I'll do anything to get it. I will be a Weapon. Amilton can't stop me – I refuse to let him win." Her friend shook his head, then brightened as an idea bloomed inside his mind._

"_Be my Weapon! You can go with me everywhere. It'll be just like we talked about when we were children! Please…" She sighed. _

"_If you can manage it, I'd love to be your personal Weapon." Part of the reason Sable was so willing to have her face beaten in for Zachary was his compassion. He was only fifteen, yet he cared about every living being. She would die for her prince. He breathed a sigh of relief and took his old friend's hand. _

"_Thank you, Sable. I just cannot bear to see him hurt you…Or anybody else." She frowned and glanced around to see that they were alone before whispering vehemently,_

"_Zachary, your brother shouldn't be king. He'll ruin Sacoridia. You are the one this country needs! Amilton is a heartless fop! I pray every night that your father realizes who his real heir should be!" His brown eyes widened._

"_Sable, that sort of thing could get you thrown out! Or-or you could be punished! Rouge Weapons are tortured for days before they hang them out so the crows can eat their insides! I cannot allow that to happen to you!" Tears leaked out of her eyes to run down her cheeks. Zachary gently wiped them away, hushing her. _

"_I don't care. I serve Sacoridia. I serve _you_…" He looked frightened, but smiled. _

"_I'm not going to be king, Sable." Her lips pulled back over her teeth in a snarl._

"_You should be!" She sobbed into his shoulder. He hugged her, like any good brother would, until she quieted. Uncomfortably, he licked his lips and just as she had, and checked to be sure he would not be overheard before saying,_

"_Sable…Remember, when we were children and you fell off the paddock fence and scraped your face? Remember what happened?" She glared up at him – he knew better than to talk about that. "Do it again! Heal yourself." The injured women squirmed. _

"_I don't know if I can do it again…" He huffed._

"_You and I both know you can do it any time you like! Sable, don't be difficult!" Zachary growled under his breath. "If you are going to be difficult, then you force me to play dirty…As your prince, I order you to heal yourself." Sable blinked in surprise. After a long moment of silence, she sat up stiffly and put her hands over her shattered face. A pale golden light filtered through her fingers. She moved her glowing hand over all her injuries slowly. When she revealed her face, it was hardly bruised, her nose was realigned, her collarbone was set and the lacerations were almost healed. Zachary smiled widely. _

"_See, you feel better now, don't you? Why didn't you mend yourself totally?" _

"_I don't want the menders to guess I have…" She dropped her voice to a whisper, as though what she was about to say was dangerous. "That I can use magic." He shook his head._

"_I know people are little skittish about magic, but you would never hurt anybody."_

Sable stood and yawned. It was not the first time she had be summoned by the king in the middle of the night and if the wild stories she had heard that day were half true, then she had a good guess as to why she was there. Absently, she began to pace the cozy, private study. She stopped before a large gilded mirror to examine her reflection. She had not had the time to comb her hair or rub away sheet marks and that was not the appearance one presented to her king.

The woman that regarded Sable from the mirror was not much changed from the attractive, young Pledge who had withstood a prince's beating. However, time had touched her slightly; her alabaster face was thinner, though still comely and her jaw had a stronger, more assured set. Her full lips were a bright scarlet that was a fine counterpoint to her verdant green eyes. The only thing that kept her face from being perfectly symmetrical was a precisely crescent-shaped scare through the arch of her right eyebrow. It was a feature she was very proud of – every real Rider had at least one scare they had received on duty. When she raised her brow in incredulity, it looked as if a tiny, white moon rose in a band of black sky. Sable was beautiful in an unassuming way.

She pragmatically combed her finger through her glossy tresses and straightened her shirt and short coat. White hands lingered on the unusual black bands on her upper sleeves. They were the visible marks of her rank as Swordsmaster and honorary Weapon. Sable smiled ruefully.

It had been a harrowing journey, becoming a Weapon. And then, not two days before her final induction into the Order of the Black Shields, she had heard the inexplicable Rider Call. No one who heard it could ignore it. That had been one of the hardest times of her life. Too far into the Black Shields to drop out and join the Riders as her friends F'ryan Coblebay and Beryl Spencer had, Sable found herself up the preverbal creek without a paddle. It had taken petitions from Zachary, Lieutenant Mapstone, King Amigast's permission _and_ a full explanation of the Rider Call to the Weapon's leader, Doven, to get her out. But she was a Weapon still. Sable did not answer to the Weapon's, nevertheless, she was a Swordsmaster and as such, she carried a black-banded sword instead of the usual Rider's saber. The duality of her position gave her certain privileges that other Riders did not have.

As she took up her pacing again, the door to the parlor opened and King Zachary Hillander strode into the room. His features were marred by worry. He dropped into the chair she had just abandoned and rubbed his beard. Sable knew that was his master gesture in times of stress and uncertainty. She gave a cursory bow before sitting opposite him. After a moment in which the only sound was the crackling flames, Zachary said,

"Sable…I need your help."


	3. Moonstones and Dark Tidings

Chapter 3. Moonstones and Dark Tidings.

"Alright, dear little brother, tell me _everything_." She said in a calm voice.

Sable crossed to the door and ordered the Weapon outside to get a servant to bring tea, then returned to her seat. She primly crossed her long, slim legs and gave him her most clear and level gaze. He heaved a sigh and removed his silver circlet, before running his fingers through his chin-length, amber hair. His eyebrows knitted together as he frowned at her.

"You've heard the rumors, I dare say?" Sable nodded, she sure had heard some insane tales this day, but they couldn't be true…Could they?

"The girl Captain Mapstone had us keeping an eye out for, Karigan G'ladheon, showed up in your throne room in a whirl of wind with a seemingly irrelevant message from –" Her voice cracked at the mention of her friend's name. "From F'ryan Coblebay." Zachary's face softened.

"I'm sorry, Sable. I know he was a good friend of yours." He leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on her knee. After years of practice in dealing with death, Sable was a master at controlling her emotions. She forced a smile.

"He died the way he would have wanted to: with his boots on, in the line of duty…That's how I'd want to go." It was the truth. It still killed Sable, the loss of her friend, but all Riders adjusted eventually. She exhaled sadly. "So, what do you need my help with, exactly?"

"Well, two things really," Zachary dug into his pocket and pulled out a small bag and undid the drawstring. "When I saw this, it reminded me of you." He reached into the little bag and reclaimed a crystalline globe the size of an orange from its depths. "It's the same as your moonstone, isn't it?" He gently tossed it to her. In a flash of white, her hand shot out and neatly plucked the ball out of the air with a dexterity that was beyond human capacity. The surprising thing was not her reflexes, but the reaction of the moonstone. It blazed to life in a blinding pulse of silver light. The king shielded his eyes with his forearm; however, there was no sign of consternation or shock. He had seen a live moonstone before.

Conscious of the brightness and the discomfort it caused his human eyes, she set it on the side table. The silvery light glittered in her eyes like white sparks as it went out. Before another word could be spoken, a servant knocked on the door and bustled in with a tea tray.

While the woman busied herself with the tea, Sable let her eyes wander around the room. It reflected the king's love of his country, there were items from every province. It was elegant, private, personal and distinctly masculine – Zachary in a nut shell. The space radiated love for kingdom, self-respect and comfort, she could not imagine what the room might have said if Amilton had inherited, as everyone thought he would.

Sable had begun to think that Amilton could murder a servant in the throne room and his father would say how clever he was. The long list of bruised servants, abused lovers and staked thoroughbreds did not seem to faze King Amigast. It took Amilton's raping the barely teenage daughter of an emissary for the Cloud Islands, with which relations had been strained, to open the king's eyes. When it came time to name an heir, Sable's prays were answered – Zachary was named king. Amilton sulked off the Hillander Province to be Lord-Governor, but he soon was back up to his old tricks. After Zachary received word that not only was his brother engaging in his former wickedness, but that due to his incompetence the once rich province was in swift decline. Amilton had forced his merciful brother's hand; Zachary had no choice but to banish him. No one was certain where the prince was now, but Sable pitied whoever had to put up with him.

Once the maid had excused herself and they were sipping their tea at ease, he broke the waiting silence. "It really is a moonstone…That only makes the story stranger."

"It is a puzzle. Why would a human girl, the daughter of a wealthy Corsa merchant no less, be carrying F'ryan's message? Not to mention, why would she have a moonstone – something only Eletains posses?" Sable rubbed her neck in frustration. Many questions and no answers. Without knowing what she did, her hand slid into her coat pocket and played with the little crystal ball within. Silvery light, exactly like that of the mysterious girl's stone, resonated from between her long fingers. The stone on the table began to glow in response. Zachary smiled faintly.

"You still carry it around with you." She chuckled and retrieved a moonstone the size of a plum from her pocket. It sat, cradled in her palm like a captured star.

"It makes me feel better." Her friend knew all about how the stone affected her when she touched it, about the warmth and feeling of wellbeing that spread up her arm and through her body. She had a deep fondness for the moonstone; it was one of the two gifts her father had bestowed upon her mother before she left. One of two small connections she had with the man who sired her. That was why her surname was 'Elitsire' and not 'Talltree.'

"These moonstones bring me to my next quandary. Did you hear about my unexpected visitor?" The white crescent-moon scar ascended towards the ebony heavens of her hair. She had not. "An Eletain waltzed into my throne room this evening." He could have told her he met a god and it would have shocked her less.

"And the problem you so desperately need my assistance with is?" His face darkened perceptibly.

"He offers me powers I could never imagine…Powers to help my people. Adolind may never go hungry in winter again…But…"

"You have doubts." She stated shrewdly. "What's this character's name?"

"Shawdell." Sable subsided into her thoughts. This was a precarious position. If they somehow offended this fellow, Shawdell, they could metaphorically set any hope of diplomatic connections with Eletia ablaze. She grimaced.

"It's tricky. Hummm, I really dislike giving you my judgments without ever having seen the man…Do you call a male Eletain a man?" He shrugged. "That's something we need to find out – currently irrelevant, I know, but it's something to keep in mind." Zachary scratched his amber beard.

"You know, you're right." He said as he finished his tea.

"I almost always am." He ignored her comment and pressed on.

"You need to meet Shawdell. And I know exactly how to arrange it!" She had a bad feeling she knew where this was going. "I'm inviting you to my ball. He is sure to notice you; all you need do is keep him occupied until you have the measure of him."

"That's a huge risk, Zachary…All those rumors about a mistress tucked away in Hillander Province – what would they say? I mean, how would it look to invite a common Green Rider, coincidently from Hillander Province, to your most prestigious ball? You know I'll stand out in my formal Rider uniform." Sable hated those stuffy, aristocratic dog and pony shows, and her formal uniform was itchy and uncomfortable. A smile played around Zachary's mouth. They both knew that while her argument was reasonable, it was just a load of waffle to get her out of going to the royal equivalent of an aristocratic three ring circus.

"You are not getting out of it that easily. I will have a gown made for you, in secret. You will undoubtedly still attract attention, but not for being common – which, by the way, you are not. And who will think twice about Lord Alton D'yer inviting one of his Rider friends. Especially, such a pretty friend." She hung her head, defeated. "So, it is decided? I will have a gown made and sent to you and Alton will escort you…I shall see you then." She sighed and nodded.

"My I be dismissed?" He grinned, winked and waved his hand in assent. As she glided from the room, Zachary caught her sleeve and got to his feet. In one swift move, he hugged her to him, and kissed her cheek. Laughing, Sable tugged on his beard. As she left, he said,

"Thank you, big sister." She grinned over her shoulder and winked back.


	4. Talk of Spirits and Mystery

Sable staggered back to Barracks, exhausted. She glared at the gray light that was creeping into the eastern sky. Dawn was near, which meant she would be expected to get up and rise and shine soon. Sable did not feel very much like rising _or_ shining. A throaty groan escaped her as she slipped into Rider Barracks and down the hall. Once inside her room, she stripped in record time, then flopped into her bed. She was asleep within seconds.

In what she felt was an indecent amount of time, her little friend, Melry, bounced into her room and shook her. Sable moaned and pulled her head out from under her pillow to frown at the girl. Mel smiled brightly and piped,

"Captain wants to talk to you, Sai."

"Ugh… Tell Laren I was up all night working my 'second job' and I need sleep." Captain Mapstone knew all about Sable's late night summonses. Mel shook her head and tugged at her Green Foot uniform.

"She said you had to come – it's important." Sable wanted to cry. After a moment of silent wallowing in her misery, she got off her narrow bed and began to dress. When she turned back to Mel, she found the girl was weeping.

"Mel..." She could guess the source of the upset. When F'ryan Coblebay dropped out of Sable's Pledge class to join the messenger, he had taken Mel under his wing. Mel would, undoubtedly, be in a state over his death.

"I m-met Karigan. The girl that brought F'ryan's message, she rode in on his horse…He's dead isn't he?" Sable hugged her adoptive sister closes and comforted her as best she could. She stroked Mel's brown hair until her sobs subsided.

"F'ryan is dead…But, he died as he would have wanted to…It isn't much, but you need to remember him as he was." Mel nodded.

"He wrote a letter for Lady Estora. I-I told Karigan I'd deliver it, but I just can't…Could you?" Sable squeezed her in a reassuring, sisterly sort of way. Mel had been abandoned in the Rider stables as an infant, and Laren Mapstone had adopted her, adding another to her flock of foundlings. Feeling a certain connection with the orphaned girl, Sable had taken on the roll of big sister. That had been twelve years ago.

"I'll deliver it for you. But, I need to see the Captain now." Mel took a rather battered letter from her inside pocket and handed it to her friend. Sable kissed the top of Mel's head, then pounced on her, tickling the girl's sides. Mel screamed and giggled through her tears. They flopped back on the tiny bed, breathless. Confident that Mel was in somewhat better spirits, Sable gave her one final hug and set out for Officer Barracks.

After two brisk knocks, Captain Mapstone opened the door to her quarters, but did not move to allow Sable admittance. After an instant, Laren stepped out onto the stoop. Sable gave her a quizzical glance before she said,

"Let's take a walk." Unsure of what had gotten into her superior's head, Sable trotted after her hesitantly. Laren made no sign that she knew her Rider followed until they were deep into the pasture beyond barracks. Smartly, the Captain turned on her heel and gave her foster daughter one of her most businesslike looks. Her hazel eyes met the taller woman's in a long stare.

The sun was low in the eastern sky and its warm rays lit Laren's auburn hair, transforming it into a main of blazing copper. She rubbed the ugly brown neck scar that ran from her jaw to her belly – a gesture denoting stress and deep thought.

"Zachary has briefed you on all the madness that transpired yesterday, I don't doubt." Sable nodded. "He told me about your mission during the ball. But, that's not why I wanted to talk with you…I spoke with the G'ladheon girl. Her story is wild, but my ability detected no trace of falsehood. According to her, she encountered F'ryan on the road home from Selium." Sable was impressed – that was the best, and most expensive, school in Sacoridia. "He asked her to take his message to the king. She took the long, North Road. She said she fought and slue a creature from Blackveil Forest. She was captured by two rogue Weapons and only escaped because of F'ryan's help." Sable blinked and stared at her captain in consternation. Laren amended, "Fryan's ghost. It sounds insane, I know. According to her, the spirits of all the Riders past saved her from the 'Shadow Man', the one responsible for F'ryan's death…And another, as well. Joy Overway was murdered too. Both were killed by two black arrows, F'ryan in the back and Joy in the chest…" Sable's hands clapped over her mouth in horror.

"Oh, gods! Why didn't I hear about this sooner? Poor Connly…" Sable had never been very close to Joy, but it was still jarring and upsetting to hear of a Rider being murdered. Connly was Chief Rider and Joy's lover. Sable, and all the other Riders, had never seen two people so in love. This love was so entrenched in their souls due to their Rider gifts – Connly could send messages, images and feelings and Joy could receive them. Sable had no doubt that Connly would have been the first to know of Joy's demise.

Laren shook her head sadly. "It was awful to see his lamentation …"

"Poor man…He's in the mending wing?"

"The Master Mender gave him a sleeping draft. I gave him the week off."

"S-so what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Sable asked, trying to break the gray pall that settled around them. Laren sighed sadly.

"I just wanted to warn you about the Eletian…I saw him. I couldn't read him." Sable frowned. Laren's ability was the gift of discerning truth. A voice inside her head would tell her 'true' or 'false' and it was always right. If this Shawdell could block Laren so easily, he was more powerful than she could imagine. Sable shuddered, despite the warm sun. Absentmindedly, she fingered the moonstone in her pocket. "I know Zachary wants you to charm him, but I would prefer you to keep your pretty head down. I can't think of any reason he would harm you, but…just be cautious."

"Thank you for the warning, Laren. I'll be careful." She smiled faintly. The captain gripped her shoulder.

"Good woman…Your mother would be proud." Sable smiled. "There is one more thing. According to Karigan, the D'Yer wall had been breached…"

"May the gods protect us! I cannot think anything good could come from that."

"I feelings exactly." They stood blinking at each other worriedly.

"I promised Mel that I would break the news to Estora…" Laren nodded and gestured for her to go. Sable left the pasture with her head bowed.

She was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she walked into someone as they exited the stable. The person wobbled and tipped over backwards. Sable's hand shot out and caught the wrist of the falling person and hauled them back to their feet.

"I'm sorry!" She exclaimed. The girl – young woman, really – blinked and straightened her shirt. She was attractive, with thick, brown hair and proud features. She was also dressed in the work uniform of a Green Rider, though Sable did not recognize her. Before she could stammer any more apologies, a deep laugh floated from the stable doors.

"Sable, you should pay more attention to where you are going!" She looked up to see her friend, Rider Alton D'Yer, leaning against the doorframe. He was a very handsome man about six years Sable's junior, with sandy hair, broad shoulders and big hands. He was also the oldest son and heir of the Lord-Governor of D'Yer Province. He grinned mischievously and tugged a lock of her hair.

"Where are your manners, Alton? You've yet to introduce me to your new friend. Did you skip your etiquette lessons to chip at your cold, stone blocks?" She inquired teasingly. Alton looked chagrined.

"My apologies, Rider Sable Eltsire, may I introduce to you, Miss Karigan G'ladheon." The girl gave her a respectful, if shallow merchant's bow, which Sable returned with a basic Rider's bow of equal difference. So, this was the famous Karigan G'ladheon…The one who had been with her friend when he passed.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Said the girl. Sable smiled.

"An honor," said Sable. "Well, I have to go see a lady about a letter…" Both Alton and Karigan sobered at the allusion to Estora. They nodded. "I'll see you around." She bowed slightly and turned toward the castle with a grimace. Alton called after her,

"I'll see you at the ball, Sable. King's command." His deep, resonating voice was laden with humor. She rolled her eyes as she marched off. Her Weapon's training had taught her to economize her motion, which gave her graceful gate an air of purposefulness and efficiency. Even after years of training, there was a slight sway to her hips that denoted femininity and elegance. Sable had to hold herself in check, without constant vigilance, everyone would see the fluidity with which she naturally moved. Fluidity beyond the human scope. Her polished boots clicked on the flagstones of the courtyard.

There were about a hundred things Sable would rather be doing than acting as storm crow for Estora, such as mucking out every stall in the stables, polishing all the Riders boots and brass, doing all the administrative work of the Riders and cleaning _every_ bit of tack in the tack-room. She bared her teeth in a scowl of anxiety. There was no real reason it had to be Sable who broke the news to Estora…But F'ryan had been a very close friend of Sable's, they had trained in the Academy together and served as Riders together. Not to mention, Sable had been key in helping F'ryan and Estora in their secret romance. No…It had to be Sable who told the poor woman about her lover's demise.

Sooner than Sable would have liked, she was looking up at the balcony of Lady Estora Coutre's suite. After a moment of furtive glancing around, she bent, selected a small pebble and chucked it at the window to the right of the balcony. It ricocheted off the sun-illuminated glass with a chiming _chink. _A moment later, a stunningly beautiful woman with hair like molten gold appeared at the window. The sun was in her eyes and Sable felt her heart sink – she knew all Estora could see was a tall, black-haired Rider in green. That was a good enough description of F'ryan Coblebay.

Awkwardly, she tugged on her belt. She watched from the shadows as the lady sidled onto the balcony and glanced nonchalantly around as if just enjoying the view. Sable took a deep breath, placed her hand over her brooch and used one of the gifts only she possessed. She reached past her special ability, the gift of incredible physical strength, and deeper into the ether in which all magic resided. She followed the line of magicemitting from her brooch back from whence it came and found the interconnecting strings of magic that made up all the Rider's abilities. After a moment of searching, she located the brooch that belonged to – or rather, _had_ belonged to – F'ryan Coblebay. Her mind dashed along that line until she reached its culmination – the brooch on Karigan G'ladheon's chest. Mentally, she took hold of the thread of magic and brought it back to her conscience body.

It sapped a little of her strength to use another Rider's ability, but she needed it right now, and it did not harm the brooch's wearer nor did it diminish the potency. The borrowed power spread outward from her brooch…The pale, gray pall fell over the world in Sable's eyes. She was invisible, thanks to F'ryan's ability. In the state of 'faded out', she began to climb up the latticework with agility far beyond human capacity. In seconds, she was vaulting the railing on the balcony opposite Estora. As she passed over the threshold into Estora's chambers, Sable quietly tapped her fingernails on the glass panes of the French doors. Estora brightened perceptibly as she searched for the invisible visitor.

Sable sat on the chaise across from the balcony and waited for the lady to close the doors. When this was done, she dropped the fade. Estora was reasonably surprised and perplexed to see the female Rider where her strapping, handsome lover should have been. The lady's good breading clicked into place within seconds and she smiled benignly at her guest.

"Tea, Rider Eltsire?" She asked politely. Despite her outer calm, Sable could sense the growing panic within her hostess.

"No thank you…And you can call me Sable." She smiled feebly. "My lady, you might want to sit down for this…" Estora closed her eyes and set her face into a grim mask. She sat beside her guest and clasped her hands in her lap.

"Something has happened to F'ryan, hasn't it." It was not really a question. Estora knew the statistics for Riders dieing in the field. If F'ryan had told his lover anything about Rider life, she would have had some idea that he might not come back from one of his message errands. Sable nodded. Something, indeed.

"I'm afraid so…He was murdered on his last mission. I am sorry to have to tell you this. But, I do bring some comfort." She retrieved the crumpled letter from her pocket and handed it to the tragically lovely Estora, whose azure eyes were flooded by silent tears. "F'ryan wrote you this…I think he suspected he would not see you again."

For a few moments, they sat in silence as Estora read and reread her farewell letter. Tears slipped down her gorgeous cheeks. After a while, Sable awkwardly said,

"I know that F'ryan loved you very much…" Estora looked up at her with wide, wet eyes. She sobbed loudly,

"I know he loved me! He loved me as I loved him!" She wept. A painful scream ripped through her throat. Succumbing to the weight of her misery, Estora collapsed forward onto Sable's lap and bawled. As uncomfortable as this made her, Sable comforted her, stroking her golden tresses and gently hushing her. Eventually, the lady quieted and sat up again. Sable could not help but feel at little envy – even though her face was tearstained and wet, Estora was still worthy of her widespread fame as the most beautiful woman in Sacoridia.

"I cannot imagine how difficult this is for you, Lady Estora. I am truly sorry…At least you know he loved you. F'ryan will not be forgotten. All who knew him loved him."

Sable squeezed Estora's shoulder consolingly. The lady took a few deep, steadying breaths and nodded her head.

"Lady, are you going to be alright? Can I get you anything?"

"N-no…I just need a little time to myself, if you don't mind." Estora's beautiful face grew calm – her ladylike training was taking over. The common-born woman beside her was impressed; she had a great deal of control over herself. Sable knew that the one outburst would be the only time Lady Estora ever showed her pain. No one would ever know. She respected the lady enough to leave her be. Sable stood, bowed and crossed to the balcony. As she faded out, she said,

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call on me."

Once invisible, she claimed down the lattice and walked back to barracks with her head bent low. The wind blew her black hair out behind her like a streaming silk banner. Though there were plenty of other people in the courtyard, none paid the gaunt-faced Greenie any mind. Not even when tears visibly streaked down her cheeks.

Later that day, Sable sat on the narrow bed in F'ryan's tiny quarters. She had had the idea that maybe Estora, in her mind F'ryan's widow, would like something of his to keep. A memento of some kind. She had searched all over the room and had found little of value – monetary or sentimental. In front of her on the worn coverlet were the few items she had selected as possible candidates. They were a small wooden caving of a winged horse in full gallop, a cerulean satin handkerchief edged in gold lace with Estora's initials and his black and white Swordsmaster's initiate uniform.

The handkerchief seemed like the best gift for Estora. No one would think anything of the hanky; it was hers after all, so the secret would remain undiscovered. Reverently, she folded it up and tucked it into the front of her shirt. The uniform would reside with her until she could organize a small funeral. F'ryan's corpse had been buried outside of Selium, where the Captain had found his remains. They couldn't give his body a proper burial, but they could at least go through the motions for the sake of closure.

As for the final item, the winged horse figurine, there was only one person who could have it, because carved on the base were three letters. MEL. It must have been F'ryan's gift for Mel's birthday. Hot tears dripped down her cheeks. After a moment, she gasped in a mouthful of air, dried her eyes and went about the business of clearing out the room.

She placed the uniform in the cedar box it had been stored in. The personal items, such as clothes, his journal, books, everything…She placed them all in one old trunk. She stripped the bed, swept and mopped the floor, cleaned the window and aired out the room. When she left, the space was clean, organized and impersonal. She sighed and adjusted her load before closing the door. It was F'ryan's room no more.

The clothes she returned to the Equipment Master, the handkerchief she sent to Estora by Green Foot, the books she sorted into the common room's bookshelf, she hid the horse carving in her room along with the cedar box, and the rest she sold. That was standard procedure – burry the body or the dress uniform, recycle the personal items and sell the rest.

When Sable returned to Barracks that afternoon, she found a parcel wrapped in white satin and bound with silk ribbons of green, gold and white. Curious, she opened the bundle. It was her gown for the ball the following night. She laughed; it was green satin – the exact shade of her uniform. Zachary's idea of a joke. It was simple, but elegant. It was off the shoulder, with a plunging v-neck and gold chiffon sleeves that belled out like wings. She tried it on for fun. As practical as she was, deep down she was still a beautiful young woman who liked pretty things. It clung to her bust and torso, while swirling out into what felt like yards of fabric at the hem. There was a sash of the same gold chiffon, and slippers of gold and green embroidery. The ribbons were for plating into her hair.

There was a note inside the wrappings. It read:

Dear Sable,

I hope you like it. I thought it looked like you. I cannot wait to see you dressed in something other than a threadbare work uniform. See you in an few nights. Your invitation is attached.

You welcome,

Zachary,

P.S. I invited Karigan G'ladheon to the ball. If you could, please keep an eye on her. Thank you.

She smiled in spite of the dismalness of the day. Silently, she thanked all the gods that listened for Zachary and his thoughtfulness. That was why she loved her king.


	5. A funeral and a Ball

Ok, a brief explanation: I took the liberty of creating a little quirk in the dances! A "set" is three dances. Got that everyone?

At noon a few days later, Sable stood in the small Rider cemetery with the Captain, Mel and all the Riders that were currently in residence. They were a subdued lot, as they ringed the hole in the ground and the empty pine box. Sable stepped forward and neatly arranged F'ryan's Swordsmaster's initiate uniform and his formal Rider's uniform inside the humble casket. Once all was in place, she stepped back and each mourner added something. The Captain set his journal on top of the green short coat, Mel added the little wooden doll he had made her as a child and each Rider after contributed something until the coffin, though devoid of a body, was full. Finally, Bard Martin reviled what he had done to commemorate F'ryan. He sang a balled written for their fallen comrade. When he finished, not an eye was dry.

Sable glanced up to see a statuesque woman shrouded in black near a hawthorn tree at the cemetery's edge. Even disguised by her black veil, Estora was recognizable. As Rider Lieutenant Patrici lifted her horn to her lips to play the Rider's Dirge, they all bowed their heads and silently prayed that Westron, God of the Dead, had taken F'ryan to the heavens. Out of the corner of her eye, Sable watched Estora glide away, as the haunting notes flowed around them, before anybody else saw her.

The modest ceremony closed with a prayer and blessing from a Moon Priest. They all made the sign of the crescent moon with their hands and watched as the four biggest Riders closed, sealed and lowered the coffin into the ground. Sable erected the small headstone engraved with his full name. Once the last of the earth was pushed over the coffin, the Riders dispersed.

Alton D'Yer put his arm around Sable's shoulders as they walked back to Barracks. Mel held her hand tightly.

"Sable, could I stay with you tonight?" Mel asked in a small voice.

"Of course, sweetling." Sable pulled her close to her other side. Alton interjected,

"Um, Sable we're supposed to go to the king's ball tonight."

"Damn…Well, I'll be back late tonight, Mel…Maybe Laren will let you stay with her and you can kip with me tomorrow." Mel nodded. At the entrance to Barracks they parted, Sable kissed her foster sister's head before sending her on to their adopted mother's quarters. Alton smiled consolingly at her as they entered the common room.

"Well, I suppose we need to get ready for tonight's festivities. Not that I feel terribly like celebrating right now…" He said with a grimace.

"Yes, I actually have to _try_ to look elegant…I don't know if that is at all possible." She laughed weakly and turned to leave, missing Alton's look of consternation. He had seen her at King Zachary's masquerade ball every year for the past five years and she always looked exquisite. She had been a swan two years (once white and once black) the deep blue-black sparkling night sky, a sea nymph in Opaline shades of green and blue, and last year she had gone as a star, swathed in white and silver. Sable may have been unconscious of her own beauty, but no one else was.

Back in her room, Sable laid the gown out on her bed and admired it. The loveliness and granger of the thing clashed magnificently with her drab and spartan room. She smoothed the satin carefully with her hands, suddenly very aware of the calluses that covered her palms. She crossed to her narrow wardrobe and yanked out her cotton robe and her bag of grooming supplies. Armed with personal hygiene products, she went to the washroom and locked herself in. Once the brass hip-bath was full, Sable stirred in a handful of heather into the steaming water. The sweat smell wafted around the room as she stripped off her short coat, shirt, breeches, stockings and boots.

Sable was rather meticulous about her hygiene and loved a good long bath. Her blue-black hair swirled around her body as she sank into the water up to her neck. She could feel her muscles release the tension that had been building all day. The pain of her loss still wracked her heart, but she could handle it. Slowly, she came to terms with F'ryan's death.

After she had scrubbed herself and washed her hair with the sweet heather-scented oils Zachary had given her for her birthday, she hauled herself out of the hip-bath and dried off. Sitting on the floor by the fire, she combed her hair until it was smooth and dry and shiny. Wrapped in her robe, she walked back to her room.

"Well, Miss Eltsire!" She turned to see one of her comrades, Yates, swaggering towards her with a big grin on his face. He was a good man, but a notorious womanizer. She tugged the collar of her robe close to her neck. His smiled widened as he perceived her embarrassment. "I would like to see more women dress like that." In a second she decided that she could either be mortified and let him win, or she could play his game and beat him. She tugged at her sleeve surreptitiously, reveling her neck and upper chest.

"If more men were as courteous as you, Yates, every woman in the country would wear burlap bags that cover from neck to wrists to ankles, like the women in the Under Kingdoms." She smiled sweetly and waltzed passed him, laughing openly at his shocked countenance.

"Touché, Sable." He chuckled as she slammed the door to her room in his face.

Now that she was cloistered in her quarters, she set about primping. She watched the sun set as she platted the white, green and gold ribbons into her inky hair. She left most her hair down, insuring her pointed ears could not be seen. The ball began at seventh hour; it was half past the fifth hour now. She slipped on the satiny gown, pinned her brooch to the bottom of her breastbone, tugged on her white silk stockings, pulled on the gold slippers and wrapped the sash around her waist. She examined her reflection critically in her tiny mirror. For flare, she tied a thin, black, silk ribbon around her white neck.

In the, still common, tradition of women, Sable spent another twenty minutes playing with her gown, minutely changing her the positions of her ribbons and fiddling with her choker. She self-consciously glanced at her neckline; the plunging v came to a point at the very bottom of her breastbone. That was considerably more skin shown than she ever showed off. Well, she reflected, it's too late for changing anything. She sniffed a lock of her hair – it smelled strongly, but not overwhelmingly, of heather, as did her skin. After satisfying herself, she inhaled deeply and went down to the common room to meet Alton. He was dressed in the colors of Clan D'Yer, bright blue, gold and red. Alton was every inch the dashing young lord.

"My lady," said Alton in a tone of surprise. "As long as you're gracing me with your presence, I'll be the envy of the ball." He grinned teasingly.

"Why thank you, Alton, you're too kind." She winked. "Where is the G'ladheon girl? The king asked me to keep an eye on her." He shrugged.

"I think she left a few minutes ago. We can catch her on the way." He bowed dramatically, proffered his right arm and smiled brightly. She curtseyed teasingly and slipped her arm through the crook of his. Several of the Riders that sat in the chairs around them whistled and catcalled their gussied up friends. The two exchanged a quick look before bowing flamboyantly, which cause a huge roar of laughter to erupt in the cozy common room. Sable and Alton laughed along with them before sweeping out into the night. They almost ran right into Yates as he walked in. Alton shot Yates a triumphant grin and nodded to his escort. Yates blinked at Sable and she playfully stuck her tongue out at him. _Serves him right_, she thought smugly.

Feeling very pleased with themselves, they glided across the gardens towards the shining windows of the vast ballroom. Sable walked with her face upturned – the moon was full and _silver_. It was so beautiful…She was completely entranced. She should not be going to some stuffy ball inside, no, she should be outside under the silver moon and the bright stars.

As they came up to the doors where a queue of very well-dressed nobles stood waiting to have their invitations checked, Sable saw a woman in a Green Rider dress uniform facing off with the guards.

"I was commanded here by the king himself," Said the woman. It had to be Karigan Gladheon. The guards laughed at her and one responded,

"Yeah? And the king's a magic lover." Alton raised his right brow at her and she grinned back. They shared a quick flash of unspoken agreement and glided up to the embattled trio.

"She is invited. She's with us." interjected Alton. The gourds bristled.

"She doesn't have an invitation, my lord," Said the other.

"Oh? Is _that_ what this is about?" Asked Alton.

"Well, Alton, I thought it was about something else."

"Yes…Like the king being a magic lover?" Sable made a sound as if thinking hard.

"You know, I think you might be right…Do you think Zachary would be interested in the fact that he's a magic lover?" She inquired innocently. The two men looked horrified. Sable had to work to keep her face straight.

"She can go in!" Karigan looked half relieved and half frightened as she took Alton's left arm, which he offered. Sable focused on reminding herself that the ball room, while made of stone, had no less than ten wide balconies from which the gardens and night sky were completely visible. He looked the real Casanova with an attractive woman on each arm. Karigan baulked at the sight of the bright ballroom full of twirling, colorful, well-dressed aristocrats. Alton gave Sable a look that clearly conveyed his desire to stay with Karigan. His escort smiled and winked conspiratorially – she knew he had been pining after the pretty merchant's daughter since she came. Mel had told her all about how tongue-tied the usually suave Lord Alton became around Karigan.

"Go on – work your D'Yer magic on her." She whispered in his ear and laughed. "Don't feel sorry for me, I have to report to the king anyway. No fun for the on-duty girl tonight." She left him to his new flame.

It was easy enough to see the king standing on his dais, getting to him was another story. She frowned; the dance floor separated her from her king. She was not inclined to wait around for another two sets to finish before she could make her way across the space. She looked around the massive, brightly lit ballroom and realized that the only way she was likely to get round the dance floor was if she shoved people out of the way. That would go over well. She snorted – there was only on choice. Gracefully, she stepped into the whirl of the dance and began to twirl in time with the music. She danced by herself, her green skirt swirled around her ankles. Her golden slippers flashed in the candlelight. She danced around the outer rim of the dance floor until she was parallel with the king's dais, at which point she extricated herself from the flow of the dance and moved towards her sovereign. Her glossy hair reflected thin waves of gold and swayed around her waist.

Dressed as she was, like a proper lady, Sable could oust Lady Estora from her long-held position of most lovely woman in Sacoridia, with incredible ease. (To be fair, what mortal could compete with the perfection of an Eletian, even a half-blood?) The thin smile she often wore, in the light of the ball room, seemed coy and inviting instead of distant. As she parted the sea of aristocrats, her keen awareness picked up on the person with whom her king conversed.

Her first impression was of hair the color of molten sunlight. As she neared the dais, the man next to Zachary looked up and smiled at her. And it was a dazzling smile that could knock over a harder-hearted woman than Sable. He was the most handsome – no, he surpassed that adjective – he was beautiful. Stunning, astounding and heart-stopping. His eyes were the clear blue of a summer sky. He wore a simple tunic, hose and boots, but they were of a shimmery fabric that seemed to have captured every color of the rainbow. This shockingly perfect creature had to be the Eletian, Shawdell.

In a split second, she regained control of herself and finished her walk to the dais. Zachary had undoubtedly noted his honored guest's sudden loss of interest and had turned to see what had caught the Eletian's wandering eye. At the sight of his darling friend, the king smiled widely and motioned for her to approach. Sable returned the smile willingly and curtsied, as befitted a lady. She ascended the dais swiftly and took the hand Zachary offered.

"Sable, you look particularly lovely tonight. Allow me to introduce my guest, Lord Shawdell of Eletia. This is my adoptive sister, Lady Sable." She managed to keep the astonishment at Zachary's embellishment of her position off her face. Lady, indeed! Shawdell smiled, placed his open hand over his heart – presumably that was the location of his heart – and bowed his head in difference to her.

"Lord Shawdell, it is something of a tradition that I claim Sable's first set. Would you excuse me?" The Eletian smiled serenely and nodded. Zachary led Sable onto the dance floor by the hand. They took their positions as the music began to play. The set was a fast paced Western Reel, a Northern Foxtrot and a blazing Prenburn waltz. Zachary was a fine dancer and Sable enjoyed herself greatly. As he spun her around the marble floor he inquired merrily,

"Where has your escort gotten? You are a hard woman to follow, but I expected you to keep him around for a few sets!" Sable grinned.

"I left a bedazzled Alton in the capable hands of Karigan G'ladheon. He seems to have taken quite a shine to her." They laughed lightly. The foxtrot required a lot of consecration due to the complicated footwork, so their conversation during that dance was limited.

"So, have you gotten anything from our guest?" He asked during the fifteen-second brake between the foxtrot and waltz.

"No, I didn't have enough time… It's difficult to read from a distance, not to mention how heavily guarded he is." The music picked up and they were off again. She was vaguely aware of Alton and Karigan whirling past. When the final notes of the Penburn waltz floated past them and out into the night, Sable's cheeks were flushed pink and a wide smile curved her lips up. She giggled happily and fanned herself with one hand.

"Let's get something to drink." He suggested, puffing a little from the prolonged exertion. The tide of thirsty dancers swept them up and deposited them in front of the drink table. Zachary selected his usual Rhovanny white, while Sable took a glass of blackberry wine. Sacoridia's sandy soil was unsuitable for growing grapes, thus Sacoridians had learned to make wine out of other fruits. Rhovanny was famous for its wine, and of course the king's biggest ball of the year would have plenty of such fine wine.

Sable and her friend moved to an alcove where they would not be trampled by parched aristocrats. For a few moments, the two stood under a golden sconce as they sipped their drinks unaware of the disturbance in the crowd nearby. Sable glanced up over the top of her pleasantly sour wine and choked on the deep purple liquid. Shawdell was gliding towards them with his coolly distant smile in place. Zachary had not noted his mysterious guest's approach, as his attention had been caught by Karigan G'ladheon who appeared to be fleeing onto a balcony close by. Sable slyly squeezed her clueless king's elbow to draw his attention back to more pressing matters. The Eletian came to an effortless stop in front of them.

"King Zachary, I hope you do not mind my stealing you sister for the next set? If she is willing, of course." His voice was as beautiful as the rest of him. It was as melodic as the bass notes of a well played harp. _Well_, she thought, _there goes any hope of keeping my head down…Forgive me, Laren._

"I would be honored, Lord Shawdell." Zachary squeezed her hand reassuringly before releasing it. The Eletian extended his perfectly formed hand in a liquidly fluid motion that was mesmerizing. Feeling very slow and awkward, Sable placed her slender, long fingered hand in his and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor to stand among the other dancers. She threw her king one quick look, which he returned with a go-for-it smile before using the distraction of the Eletian's first witnessed dance to follow the G'ladheon girl out onto the balcony.

The orchestra began to play to opening refrain – the musicians' way of telling the dancers what they would be dancing to, and that the dance would begin in a few seconds. Inwardly, Sable groaned. _Gods preserve me; it's a Corsain waltz…_ Though that particular waltz was swift but graceful, it was a dance that demanded the couples to be very close. Not to mention that to two sets that follow a Corsain waltz were always a fast paced L'Pietrie reel and a sizzling Coutre tango. It was going to be a long set... Fastening a warm but vague smile on her face, Sable turned to her partner.

He took her hand in his and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her gently to him, as the dance demanded. He was a full head taller than Sable. She held herself erect, her back and neck gracefully achieving the dancer's line. She tilted her head coyly away and to the side as they started off. Her partner was surprisingly well versed in the steps and led her easily. He spun her around twice on the beat and dipped her swiftly on the rest. The Corsain waltz went by quicker than she would have believed; it might have had something to do with the constant feeling of his body against hers. It was not a situation she was accustom to, even in as innocent a venue as a crowded ball room.

About halfway through the waltz, Sable had begun to relax a little and started to think of ways to work her charm, that he might let his guard down, enabling her to read him. She gazed up at him through her long black lashes and tried to think of something to say – nothing was forthcoming. _Hells…_ He broke the silence between them.

"I am wondering, why is a powerful Eletian half-blood living in the mortal court of Sacoridia?" Sable blinked rapidly, but otherwise showed no sign of her rattling shock. Her mouth opened into a small 'O' of puzzlement, but he answered her question before she posed it. "How did I know? It is written all over your beautiful face, Lady Sable." A small laugh rolled in his throat.

"Has your brother told you what I offer him?" She assented as he spun her gently. "Power beyond his wildest dreams…All he need do is let me bring the D'Yer wall down. It is already breached."

"But Blackveil is evil – that is why the wall was built." She pointed out politely.

"Ah, but Eletia has the power to purify the wild magic, to make it usable. That is what I offer your _mortal_ brother…It would be in your country's best interest to accept my offer." He watched her under half-lidded eyes. It suddenly dawned on Sable what he reminded her of – a cat with a tiny mouse between his paws. Her heart pounded a violent tattoo against her breast bone. She wanted to change the subject, to make him stop looking at her like that, but her mind was frozen over like a shallow pond in winter. Her partner took advantage of her inability to string three words together and tactfully continued,

"To you, on the other hand, I would offer something very different…Now, what would you want? I could give you five times the power your king could handle, your blood has magic flowing in it already." Sable flashed him a frightened look. "No, not power for you. You have too much for your untrained hands to handle as it is." He chuckled warmly as he dipped her in a fluid motion. He spun her around the floor effortlessly, using the excuse to hold her close, he whispered in her ear, "I can teach you to use those powers you have so diligently hidden. I can give you your powers – give me a few years and I can give you back hands that can heal with a touch or bring a granite monolith down as easily." If her heart had been hammering before, it was nothing to what it was doing now. She could not breathe; her chest was constricted to the point of pain.

He lifted her gently into the air at the proper queue and twirled her around as if she weighed nothing at all. It was almost as disconcerting as his words. As he brought her back down, her skirt rippled out into a pool in midair, revealing her slim calves and her white silk stockings and her green garters. Her slippers barely brushed the marble floor when he set her down. Her skin tickled under his hands, as though something probed into her soul.

It was a cold, intent something – like icy fingers inside her mind…_Gods, He's reading me! _Panic began to crawl up her spine; she had no way to block him. His cool smile and half lidded eyes were as distant and unruffled as ever. She had to think fast. Before she could formulate a plan, her mind was flashing back and forth through memories without rhyme or reason. _She was seven, playing on the floor of Laren's room waiting for her mother to return after a four month mission. Then, she was seventeen, sitting on a hill in the fields of the Lost Lake with Zachary – they kiss quickly, then agreed that it was too much like kissing a sibling. A twenty-three-year-old Sable sat with F'ryan Coblebay on a pile of hay in the stables as he described his love for Estora. _The memories continued to flash by in that way for – was it mere seconds, or longer? Then, as the face of her mother blossomed in her mind's eye, Sable gave a mental heave and expelled the foreign presence. This should have been the end of it, but in her zeal to be rid of his exploring presence, a piece of her own conscience had been hurled back with his.

She had not the skill to page through his mind as he had hers, but she got a quick glimpse of his character. It was not the beautiful, incandescent aura one would have expected of something so perfect. She had seen it so briefly, and his mind was so alien for the human parts of hers which were functioning, that the image she had retained was uninterruptible. However, she knew this much, Lord Shawdell was not to be trusted. She had already been trying to escape back into her own head when a gentle mental push from her host sent her packing. Though her body had not reacted to the stress and shock, her mind was. Inwardly, she had retreated into a corner of her of her head, her body left to function on autopilot.

The dance finished and she came to her senses enough to realize that it was over. Her partner's arm lingered around her waits as the hoard of dancers eddied like a stream around them. He took her hand in his and kissed it briefly and bowed before turning back to his throng of admirers. Dimly, she noticed many of the women shot her envious glares. _Why?_ She wondered. With as much dignity as she could muster in her shaken state, Sable moved swiftly to the nearest balcony door – in the adjacent alcove stood a familiar Weapon.

"Rory!" She whispered, "Can you give me a few minutes alone?" Unwisely, she glanced over her shoulder to find the Eletian watching her over the heads of his devotees. Her face went blank to hind the flinch. Her Weapon friend's glance flicked to her face for a moment, then he nodded. Sable sighed and rushed onto the balcony.

Her pale hands curled around the marble balustrade. Her breathing became ragged and her whole body trembled as she allowed herself to react to her ordeal. She felt tainted – part of him had been in her mind. He had invaded a place no one but her should go. And worse still, she had done the same. She had gotten a flash of his mind. That was a bond…Bile rose in her throat. A fierce shiver ran up her spine causing her long blue-black hair to fall in her face. Slowly, she slid down a marble pillar to sit on the floor, putting her head between her knees.

After ten minutes, Sable had regained control over her emotions enough to rejoin the other glamorous people. She stood, brushed off her skirt and straitened her gown before preparing to make an entrance that would not spark talk. Sable stopped at the arch and gazed up at the bright silver disk in the inky sky. Her heart lifted a little more and her nerves eased. Whatever was going on down below, the heavenly bodies were constant, and that was encouraging. Now properly collected, Sable glided imperiously back into the ballroom, just in time to witness Karigan G'ladheon rushing out of the balcony nearest to hers. She watched as the girl made a rather undignified exit from the ballroom.

Though she felt sorry for whatever had upset the girl, her exit insured nobody noticed Sable's entrance. This was how she preferred it. Before she could even begin to scan the crowd for her elusive escort, another Weapon approached her. She was younger than Sable by several years and must have just gotten her black band. The new Black Shield stopped in front of Sable and gave a curt half-bow.

"The king wishes to speak with you, Rider Eltsire." She informed the woman who was technically her superior officer.


	6. A Silver Moon and Many Conversations

One quick note: Ch 5 sort of forced me close to the edge of the evil Marry-Sue

One quick note: Ch 5 sort of forced me close to the edge of the evil **Marry-Sue**. Fear not, dear reads, that very painful, but necessary evil has passed! It had to be done, thanks for sitting through it. I didn't much like writing it, and Sable didn't enjoy it much either.

Chapter 6. A Silver Moon and Many Conversations.

"He is on the balcony?" Sable asked. Nod. "Every well, then." She swept passed the young Weapon and found Zachary on the balcony the G'ladheon girl had just vacated. His visage was perturbed. Whatever he and the girl had discussed had upset him as well. She came to his side and effortlessly perched herself on the railing. She waited a moment, expecting him to explain why the girl had fled like a frightened deer, but no details were forthcoming.

"Well?"

"Mm…"

"You're so very articulate…"

"What? Oh, Sable. Forgive me, I was –"

"In your own world?"

"Yes…" They sat in silence for a while, he thinking of whatever had passed between him and his subject and she content to wait. Finally, he asked, "So, did you get a reading on our guest?" She suppressed an involuntary shudder.

"Yes…I would not trust him as far as I can throw him." Zachary laughed and some of the shadows on his face lightened.

"Considering what you can do with a little bit of help from your brooch, that is quite a lot of trust." She made a noise of irritation in her throat at his seeming lack of concern over what she deemed to be a very dangerous situation.

"Fine then," she snapped. "Trust him no farther than _you_ can throw him." He sobered at her terseness.

"Did he say something to you? Did he hurt you? I can't see how he could have done, but –"

"No, little brother," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "He didn't harm me…His reading was just unsettling. As I said, don't trust him overmuch." Zachary nodded, treating her to an appraising look.

"Mm…Well, I hope you're alright. You look a bit shaken." He took hold of her shoulders and slid her off the railing, the better to assess her. She smiled reassuringly up at him.

"Don't worry. I _am_ fine." Still smiling for his benefit, she turned to gaze at the sky. "What a fine night…" She leaned over the balustrade, enjoying the cool breeze on her face. The moonlight sent silvery waves running down her black hair and illuminated her pale skin as if it were reflective.

"It is very fine out…Miss G'ladheon agrees with me that it is the sort of night no Eletian would want to spend indoors. If I know you at all, and I believe I do, you are chomping at the bit to go prowling under the stars…" She flashed him a grin, which he reciprocated – they were thinking of the many nights they had sneaked out to play by moonlight as children. "So, why is Lord Shawdell so utterly pleased to pass the night cooped up inside surrounded by mere mortals?"

"Yes…If a half-blood Eletian can barely stand to be parted from this sky, then how can a pure Eletian do it so easily? He does not seem quite – right. I hold to my earlier assertion: he cannot be trusted."

"I suspected as much. But I did not wish to jump to unfounded conclusions." She nodded. At this point in time there was nothing anyone could do about the Eletain, and the best thing to do would be to change the subject. This, Sable did.

"So," She asked conspiratorially. "What happened with Karigan?" She elbowed him playfully. He sighed heavily.

"I spoke to her more openly… As I told you, the throne room was no place to talk of such things."

"Yes, I heard about your rather odd meeting with her. She was very confused by your desire to play Intrigue. A board game, really Zachary?" He looked at her sheepishly as she took her place on the railing.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time…I just wanted to meet the woman who survived all that to bring me a message." He smiled wistfully, "She told me exactly what he thought of me. It was very refreshing to be told I'm not a good king by somebody who can explain why without a hidden agenda…" He chuckled.

"And you enjoyed that?" He nodded.

"She's quite spirited."

"So you got a blast of that G'ladheon temper, eh?"

"Yes."

"You seem to have survived tolerably well. What made her rush out like that?"

"I haven't the foggiest." He rubbed his beard absently.

She stretched like a cat; someone with less innate balance would probably have taken a header off the balcony. Her stomach flipped; through the arch, she could see the Eletian watching her. She shuddered and turned back to Zachary, who was regarding her critically.

"Are you so sure you are all right? You look a bit pale – well, paler than usual."

"I am uncomfortable with him. He is too intense, too powerful…Too dark." She hugged herself. "Don't cross him, little brother."

"Then how am I to deny him without causing him to retaliate?"

"Um, tell him you're unsure your people would respond well to a king with great magical power. If he says you would have the power to put down any rebellion, tell him you don't approve of violence that can be avoided. Beyond that, just be your charming self. If he does prove to be the unreasonable sort…well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it! Pray he's in a good mood when you break the news to him."

"Pray my luck is that good, more like."

"You are king, though you were second born. You are king of a peaceful, prosperous country. I would say your luck is quite good."

"You're forgetting the three assassination attempts, an older brother who hates me and the endless game of Intrigue I have to play." She smiled warmly.

"You're proving my point. You are alive, despite multiple attempts on your life. Yes, Amilton hates you, but he's far way. And you are very talented at the game. You _are_ lucky, little brother." Sable smiled at him brightly. "See, so worry only as much as need be – otherwise you'll give yourself wrinkles." She tapped his nose with her index finger. "Tell him thank you, but no." He frowned, some torment twisted his face. After sucking in a deep breath, Zachary admitted,

"… Well, part of me wants that power… Not for the power, but for the good I could do with it. I mean, there are _groundmites_ inside my borders! Not only that, but they slaughtered most of the heirs to the Lord-Governor's! And now, my men can't find them. If I had that kind of power, those creatures would be disposed of by now. No more murdered children! In the name of the gods, they were on a field trip for school – no one should worry about their child's safety at school!" He railed.

"The bigger questions are: how did they get so far into the country undetected and where are they now? 'Mites aren't exactly known for stealth… How did they make it to Selium without causing enough mischief to alert us to their presence? It's as if something smarter than their own will controls them…which is no comfort." Sable pointed out, Weapon's pragmatism showing through.

Zachary frowned and tugged at the cuff of his silver edged short coat. He looked particularly grand and kingly tonight. He was garbed in navy blue velvet, his waistcoat was silk of a liter blue and embroidered with silver and his shirt was cream-colored. Sable felt acutely relieved that her king so totally looked the part tonight – he needed to be able to hold his own next to the Eletian.

"Are you ready?" He asked, proffering his arm. She took a deep breath and came to stand beside him. He smiled as she slipped her arm through his.

"Thank you for putting yourself to the hazard." He kissed her cheek and escorted her back into the brightly lit ballroom.

They parted after a quick bow, him to his dais and her to refreshment table. Alton was at her elbow in a moment. He smiled down at her,

"So, are you up for another set?"

"Yes, and then I'm going back to Barracks – where I belong." Alton nodded and ushered her onto the dance floor. On their way, they passed Beryl Spencer dressed in her Merwellian Scarlet uniform. Sable made eye contact with her old friend and Black Shield Pledge mate for a split second. Then Beryl turned back to the wizened, clearly foul tempered old man in a rather ridiculous bear-pelt cloak – the Lord-Governor of Merwell Province. Sable felt a squeeze of nostalgia; she missed Beryl fiercely, especially now that F'ryan was gone. She had many close friends in the messenger service, but she, F'ryan and Beryl had gone through the Academy together. Even those who had dropped out still felt a connection with those who had continued.

Beryl was a Green Rider, but her gift made her more of an asset in espionage than in message running. Her gift was that of deception. She could assume a roll and nobody would be the wiser. Thus, Beryl was often apart from her comrades in green. This was lamentable, but necessary.

The dances flew by. Alton lead well, and Sable followed unthinkingly, her mind far way. All the things Zachary had spoken of had awakened something inside her mind. She had missed something vital. She just had no idea what it was. Her preoccupation must have shown on her face because Alton inquired,

"What has you looking so grim?"

"I don't know…"

"Does it have anything to do with your dace with the Eletian? That seems to be distressing more than one Greenie girl."

"Was that what upset Karigan?"

"That and her allergy to aristocrats," he informed her blithely. _So, he's pretending not to be disappointing by her early exit, fine, I'll play along._ _Best if I just change the subject…_

"It's funny to think this gown will get stored alongside my uniforms… It's going to look ridiculous."

"Well, it will have all those other lovely gowns to keep it company."

"What others? Alton, remember, unlike you, I'm a poor Rider with no rich father or clan."

"But the gowns you wore to the masquerades?"

"The ones I borrowed from my friend in the theater district?"

"You have a friend in the _theater district_?"

Sable laughed. Yes, he would be surprised to find quiet, honorable Sable had a friend in the theater district – that seedy part of the city where all the theaters, and consequently, thespians resided. The area was not really that seedy, but as actors had a bad reputation, their jobs being classified as disreputable, the area had been given an unfavorable review. This did not make it any less chic for the wealthy to attend plays, but consorting with the actors… Now that was a different matter entirely. Not that Sable cared.

"So, you borrow gowns from someone in the theater? An actress?"

"Yep. He owes me his life, so he lends me costumes when I need them."

"This sounds like a story worth telling."

"Well, I had strained my right arm on an errand, so I had three weeks leave. Now, you know me, so it should come as no surprise that after five days, my arm was mended and I was _beyond_ restless. A couple of the other Riders suggested we pool our money and take in a play. Afterwards, we hit a pub. Late that night I left another pub in that district to find a woman in yellow being harassed by a group of men."

"And you stepped in."

"Yes. And when I had done, I discovered the woman I had saved was in fact a man."

"In a dress?" He sounded shocked and amused at once.

"Yes… He – _She_ was on her way to work. Eemie is an actor. Very talented, by the way. So ever since I, her 'valiant Rider,' came to her rescue, she has provided me with the gowns I need for the masque balls."

"You lead an interesting life." He commented as the dance ended.

"I like to think so."

"You'll be leaving me to the wolves then?"

"I'm afraid so… You and I both know I don't belong here."

"Nobody but you thinks that, Sable." She laughed.

"Thank you, but I must return to my drab world." And that was all the excuse she gave for leaving. She had done her duty; there was not reason to linger. As she left, Sable took one last look at the glowing ballroom; it was beautiful, glamorous and brilliant and a world away for her and her life. She felt no regret in leaving.

…

Sable was in no mood to sleep. The night was far too beautiful to waist in sleep and she had far too much on her mind. She was going to take Sunset, her blood bay gelding, for a long ride under the lovely silvery moon. Sunset would be pleased to be out in the cool air. She peeled off the fine gown and gingerly placed it back in the box Zachary had sent it in.

She braided her hair and pulled on her plain work uniform. Sighing deeply, she smiled at her reflection. She was her drab, everyday self again. She was herself. Satisfied with what she saw in the mirror, Sable yanked on her boots and marched out of her room with every intention of hopping on Sunset bareback. She never got so much as a glimpse of the stables. At the door into Barracks stood Captain Mapstone – clearly in the act of scraping mud off her boots.

"Laren?"

"I was just coming to find you." Said the captain, her hazel eyes serious and her face grim.

"Why?" Sable inquired warily.

"F'rayan had a second message." Sable's heart sank into her boots. Her body went cold.

"The good-by to Estora… Oh, gods, Laren! I should have known!" Laren shook her head slowly.

"Don't beat yourself up over it. I missed it too. Luckily, Estora noticed some inconsistencies in the letter and told Karigan. Now, we need to decode the message."

"Do you want my help, or…" Sable wanted to vomit. How could she have missed something so obvious? If something terrible happened, it would be all her fault! Laren gave Sable a sympathetic look and squeezed her shoulder.

"Don't beat yourself up. Put your skills to good use. C'mon."

Grappling with her guilt, Sable followed her Captain back to her quarters, where the other Riders with skills and abilities useful in decoding were waiting.


End file.
